Bittersweet Remedy (TFP - MegatronStarscream)
by ScorchleDragon
Summary: Starscream thought his luck couldn't get any worse - that is, until Megatron realized there was more than one way to make use of a rebel seeker... A collab between myself and pepapuppy autobot on Wattpad :3 (Mild Megastar smut)
1. Prologue I

The timid seeker slowly sipped his high grade, rubbing his sore neck cabling and muttering unflatteringly under his breath. It was the evening of a gladiator battle, so the place was packed - filled with overexcited celebrators of the savage event who weren't planning on leaving sober. Not his favorite crowd, but what else was he gonna do?

It had taken him a while to decide how he was to spend what little was left of his pay on. Earlier that day Starscream had just happened to run in to a couple of muggers, who had left him with less than half of what little allowance he had earned that day in his backbreaking labor. Starscream had come from a wealthy family who found his existence a nuisance, and only kept him around for the benefit of slavery. He was often passed around from mech to mech to find work. Despite the sob story, he remained a wistful thinker... which he wasn't entirely certain about in terms of beneficiality either.

He took another sip of his high grade. Damned idiot.

A bubbly cheer erupted from the crowd, followed by a chorus of drunk appraisal. Starscream looked up. They were celebrating the arrival of a new mech, by the looks of it a gladiator. He didn't look up long enough to see whom. In truth, he hardly cared, if at all.

Unable to think of anything better to do, Starscream laced his claws together, arching his shoulders and staring at his elbow-hinges. He felt drowsy. Not from high grade, he was still sober. He'd been unable to sleep the previous night. It had become a recurring issue the day he'd made residence in the roof of an abandoned building.

The seeker was so busy feeling sorry for himself he didn't even stop to think, well gee, this terrible day can't get any worse. He didn't need to, apparently. He was alerted by the sound of scuffling peds, pinpointed in his direction, which on its own was not good. He looked up, working his claws into a tight knot.

The mech was obviously a gladiator. He could tell from the way he walked, a confident, cocky strut, heavily worn armor decorated with dents and burns. Not to mention the fact this guy was towering, broad-shouldered and unrealistically sinewy. His gaze was on the border of warm and cool, not quite welcoming but slightly kind-spirited. Businesslike, Starscream decided. The gladiator wore a charming smile, one that made him oddly uneasy. The most troubling thing about the mech was that he was looking right at him. Leave me alone, Starscream quietly urged, staring over his shoulder in an attempt to look busied. The mech apparently didn't get the message and strode over, light bouncing off his silvery-platinum armor in a cheerful splash.

"Is this seat taken?" The gladiator rumbled, looking the seeker up and down in an apparent analysis.

Starscream wanted to snap at him, but in all honesty, he was afraid of this mech. Not just anyone could be classified a gladiator. This was the kind of mech that could tear his throat out if pushed too far, he noted, respiratory canal tightening at the thought. Devoid of a more suitable reply he offered a small nod. The mech didn't wait to be asked twice and took a seat, resting his arms on the table and observing the seeker thoughtfully.

"So," he began, rolling his shoulders back in a relaxed, dominant gesture. "What brings you here on the eve of this lovely occasion?" He wondered. His use of linguistic etiquette made Starscream even less comfortable.

"None of your business," he replied quickly, stiffening his wings.

"Respectable," the mech replied after some thought. "I apologize if I make you feel... uncomfortable."

No kidding, the timid seeker growled inwardly.

"I'm Megatronus," he announced, a little quickly. Formal name, he noted. Fit for a gladiator. Megatronus looked at him expectantly.

He hesitated. He hesitated at pretty much everything.

"Starscream," he mumbled after some time. Not a very respectable name, he nearly felt obliged to add. If Megatronus had minded at all, he didn't show it.

The gladiator outstretched a servo in what would have been a friendly greeting. Starscream was more interested in those claws... they were literally filed to a precise point. Scary. He cast him an uncertain glance then slowly took his servo, where the gladiator gave his a firm shake.

Starscream didn't really like this mech.

"Would you like some high grade?" He suddenly offered, out-of-the-blue. "I can buy you a cube, if you'd like."

Okay. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

So, Megatronus ended up paying for the beverages, which put Starscream in a slightly better mood. After giving the seeker his promised cube he decided to strike up a conversation, which the mech only found mildly annoying. For this gladiator was one that commanded respect and authority, with such a powerful tone you just had to listen.

"Come here often?" He wondered causally. Starscream knew this tactic, he was trying to soften him up so he could launch into his point with more ease. But the seeker was educated in these conversational strategies.

"Occasionally," he muttered in solemn reply.

Megatronus took his answer into account. He really was interested in what he had to say, which most other mechs would find flattering. He just thought it was creepy.

"I've never seen you around any spectator events," he said thoughtfully.

"I find the duels boring and unnecessary," he snarled. It wasn't like he meant to sound exceptionally rude or hostile, it just came out that way, like a default. Megatronus wasn't even offended by that. Well, if he was, he made no indication of his offense.

"It's not all about fighting," he chimed in. Starscream raised an optic ridge. "It's a very political event. Gladiators - are entrepreneurs. Other mechs listen to us. For obvious reasons," he noted, sort of adjusting to gesture to his figure. "It's not just about the fight. It's about impacting our society."

Okay. So he was an ambassador, of sorts.

"You fight so mechs will pay attention to you?" He wondered.

"Ah - partially. It gives me a solid standing point, an influence. It helps me get my ideas heard." He paused. "Our society is only going downhill. I want to join the council, to help get us back on our peds."

According to his words, he had decent intentions. But you could never be sure.

"First off, I want to equalize our government." He stated. "We can't continue on like this forever, with our citizens so fluctuated. We need a balance of power between all mechs."

Starscream was now fully attentive. This one affected him personally. "What do you think?" Megatronus wondered, full-on politician mode.

"Our idiotic power seperation has to end," Starscream began quietly. "Segregation has put our society into a flux. This seperation needs to end before it becomes a problem."

Megatronus nodded thoughtfully. Starscream felt oddly proud of himself for appealing to the gladiator.

"We could make alot of things better for alot of mechs," he said, almost wistfully. "The Utopia our lordship Unicron always imagined."

Starscream looked over. "Wait, don't you mean..."

Megatronus looked curiously at the seeker. Starscream shut his trap. He wasn't a very... well... religious mech, but everyone knew the stories. Surely the gladiator meant Primus. But then again, the way he looked at him with such confidence and esteem, and that fiery light in his optics that hinted something much, much worse, deep beneath his battle worn armor. But this gladiator was respectable, inspiring... damn, even his charisma was intriguing.

"I want to join the high council," he added. "I want them to make me a Prime."

So, the Unicron follower wanted to be a Prime. The irony. But Megatronus had willpower, and the fierce fire in his optics reflected a dark soul. He was very ambitious. But there was apparently much, much more the gladiator was hiding. He didn't want justice, he wanted revenge. Starscream was starting to like him.

"Utopia, huh?" Starscream wondered, still timid. "How so?"

"Have you ever wished," he began, locking gazes. "That one day, you'd be able to make everything better - for you, for mechs like you? We can change that. You can change that. You won't be an outcast anymore." His tone was light and sugary. Yes, sugary. Weird. "I want you to help me make things better."

Starscream took a breath. He was a really, really persuasive speaker. Ever since Starscream was a sparkling, he'd dreamed of being a king. Some would say it was cute. He was completely serious about his ambition. Even today he treated his childhood dream as a sort of inspiration. Life-goal was a little exaggerated. What this mech was offering... it was scary. In a way that was too good to be true.

Realizing Megatronus had shifted closer, the seeker shot up abruptly. "I have to go," he said swiftly, wings raised in a defensive stance. Megatronus had dropped his wistful demeanor and was looking at Starscream oddly. The seeker turned and started off, angling his shoulders and snaking past several other stragglers.

"Wait!" The gladiator insisted. Starscream tried to ignore him. "I'll - I'll be here tomorrow, after the event! We can meet..." For the first time that day, he sounded unsure, like a normal mech.

Starscream didn't answer him. He left without a word, staring at his peds the whole time.

He would return the next day.

Megatronus settled back down as the seeker left. That had certainly been an interesting encounter. Why he had been drawn to the lonely mech, he had no idea. He was cool and unfriendly, but the innocence was there, like an imprint. At first he'd appeared gullible. But there was more depth to him than he had originally anticipated, and that was important. The whole time he hadn't been staring at the gladiator, but through him, as if he could read his thoughts. Important traits for a rogue. But every mech could be used if you approached him correctly.

He sipped his high grade, lost in thought. He liked that seeker. Defiant, but inwardly frightened, easily intimidated. Ambitious with a place in his spark for vengeful hatred. It sounded like a dangerous combination. But Megatronus liked challenges.

Turns out this challenge was more trouble than he was worth...


	2. Chapter 1

"STARSCREAM!"

The timid seeker jumped, snapping out of his daydream. Megatron's snarl left his audio-receptors ringing, jumbling his thoughts. It was only after a moment of stunned silence that he realized he was in trouble.

Several vehicons were snickering. He ignored them.

"STARSCREAM!" The warlord repeated. He was in the other room - which other one didn't matter. One of the vehicons pointed at the seeker, pantomiming a knife against his respitory canal. He didn't appreciate the humor.

Without thinking, the seeker spun around and bolted. These situations were primarily fight-or-flight situations. At least, the way he saw it. He just needed to get as far away from the warlord as possible, and maybe, just maybe, in a few hours it would blow over. Maybe.

He shoved through crowds of mechs, wings lowered close to his shoulder pads to reduce drag. He didn't pay heed to their stunned expressions, nor the poisonous remarks thrown his way. They knew what was going on, maybe even looking forward to it. He hated every single one of them.

He was doing fairly good until he nearly smacked face-first into a tall folding ladder. He staggered backward. After steadying himself, the con who was perched atop the ladder peered down to catch a glimpse of the riot. Starscream glowered at him.

"What the frag?!" He spat, impatience and frustration finally bubbling over. "Why in the name of Primus would you put a damn ladder in the middle of a walkway? Is there something wrong with you? MOVE IT!" He ordered. The con was... painting? Didn't really matter. All he was to the commander was a nuisance.

The con mumbled something unintelligible and resumed working. Starscream resisted the urge to knock over the ladder and turned back around. However, he was too busy eyeing the fold-up ladder that he forgot to check which direction he was headed and -

BAM!

As if his rotten luck couldn't have gotten any worse, he had to smack into none other than His Excellence.

Jarred by the impact, the seeker stumbled back, peds skidding on the newly waxed warship floor (curse those stupid maintenance cons!). He backtracked for a moment before falling back into the folding ladder conveniently placed in the middle of the walkway. It wobbled, completing a full spin before pitching. The con standing atop did not fall over. However, the impact did knock over his bucket of paint - neon blue, for repainting the reflector patches - which toppled from the high point and clattered to the ground. It spewed its contents moments before hitting the floor. The sprey had completely avoided Starscream, but unfortunately, Megatron was not as lucky.

The seeker cringed and looked up. Megatron was entirely coated with a thick layer of electric blue, which seeped into the indents of his armor and formed a puddle around his peds. He did not look happy. His glare was icy cold, and his claws were hooked like he was ready to claw someone. Starscream nervously swallowed his fear and clasped his servos together, offering a round of nervous laughter.

"Er - Lord Megatron!" He finally spoke, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "I was - er - just looking for you... for..." He tapped his claws together in an anxious habit. "Erm..."

Megatron abruptly raised a servo, silencing him. He took a moment to calm himself, looking down at the half-crushed bucket of paint rather than his first lieutenant. "Talk. With me. NOW."

He nodded, letting out a small choked sound. The warlord wiped a bit of the paint from around his optics before heading off in the other direction. Starscream tagged along, trying to look as small as possible.

The two mechs walked a while before Mehatron actually said anything. In a way, the silence was even worse than the noise. Starscream continually cringed and shuddered, wishing he could just curl up and die somewhere. When the warlord finally did shatter the silence, his tone was rough and flat.

"Starscream," he began, taking a deep breath. "I have been very tolerable towards you. Very lenient. If you were any other mech, I wouldn't have thought twice about killing you for your disobedience. I tried to discipline you, to reason, even. But here we are again, this same stupid story all over again. You remember why I chose you to be my first lieutenant in the first place?" He took a pause, staring at his peds. "I chose you because I saw promise. Integrity. Yet here we are now, having this conversation." He raised his voice a little. "Obviously, my old methods of disciplining you are defective. This means I have two choices - we change the rules around here, or I kill you." He finally cast a glance at the seeker. Starscream swallowed, breathing unevenly. He was screwed.

"But I don't want to kill you," he continued, starting along again "If I'd wanted that, I would have done it myself a long time ago. No. But that doesn't mean you aren't going to be pulling your weight around here," he added. "I'm going to need to find some sort of use for you." He seemed to be partially muttering to himself now. Starscream didn't really like how calm he was being, but he decided it was better than having his voicebox torn out. For now.

Megatron took these long pauses when he spoke with him. It was nerve-wracking. Starscream wished he could just be done and be over it. Maybe this was part of his punishment, he thought.

"Until I can come up with... better terms..." He started up again, staring back at his peds. "You can be dismissed."

Starscream stopped, standing still for several moments before he actually remembered to nod. "Yessir," he replied in a little more high-pitched than usual voice. He turned, nearly walking into a wall before he recollected his compusure and sense of direction.

This is bad.

This is really bad.


	3. Chapter 2

Knockout looked up as the medbay doors slid open with a screech. Starscream walked inside, appearing dejected. He didn't even bother with introductions and got seated on the medbay stretcher with a sad, depressed sigh, lowering his wings.

"What is it now?" Knockout muttered, examining his reflection in the over-polished floor.

"Book me in for severe physical damage sometime soon," he moaned. "If I'm not dead already."

"What did you do this time?" He huffed, propping his elbow up on a tool table and turning his attention to his claws.

He sighed and buried his face in his servos. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled. "Megatron found out, and... yeah. We talked."

"Talked?" He wondered. "You talked with him? He didn't..."

"No," the seeker replied solemnly. "I am sooooo screwed."

"Uh. Why? He let you off easy," Knockout wondered, frowning at him. He wasn't up for another lecture on Starscream's misery, but it was too late to take it back.

"He told me about how the 'traditional' methods of 'disciplining' me weren't working. He let me off the hook until he could think of 'new terms.'" He sounded utterly devestated. "He told me I wasn't pulling my weight around here, and... yeah..." He sniffled. "He's going to kill me."

"Mmhmm," Knockout muttered nonchalantly.

"Are you even listening?" Starscream growled, lowering his servos from his optics.

"Yeah. No." Knockout replied sourly. He hated having to listen to the seeker going on and on about himself. It was always about whatever stupid thing he had done. He really missed Breakdown, partially because he had been the only one who was ever interested in what he had to say. Maybe a little too interested. But he'd never cared. Now the only mechs that actually wanted to talk to him were more interested in his medic skill, whatever that was.

Starscream shot him a poisonous glare and got up, stalking off stubbornly. Knockout rolled his optics and grumbled to himself, massaging his fore-helm with a claw. Stupid self-centered glitch.

...

Megatron scrubbed the last of the paint from his armor, though it still left him with a glowing blue sheen. He was still trying to get that foul taste out of his mouth.

He'd taken time to think. A lot of time. In the past, whenever he'd had a problem with disobedience, he'd been quick to dispose of the threat. Starscream was an exception. Finding excuses to keep him around wasn't easy. The others didn't like him, and he was always coming up with some new way to get him killed. Knowing that your second-in-command wants you dead is a little harrowing.

If he wasn't useful, why didn't he just kill him?

Good question indeed. Megatron was still stuck on that one.

The warlord sighed, examining his reflection. He knew why the seeker hated him. He was ambitious, too much for his own good. He apparently envied his position - who didn't, really? He was traitorous, disloyal, and unnapreciative, yet Megatron found him charming and instead of killing him he actually tried to stick up for the mech. He knew better, but he did nothing to prevent it. It was pathetic.

Megatron looked away from the mirror. He couldn't kill the seeker. As much as he wanted to deny it, he'd grown attatched to him. It sounded a lot worse when he actually said it. But still, he had to find some way for the seeker to prove his worth.

Just then, he got the worst idea...


	4. Chapter 3

Starscream had returned to his original survival tactic - hiding around the ship in hopes Megatron would miss him. At the moment it was the only thing he could do. The seeker had been eased into a state of depression, talking of himself like a pessimistic mech. Nobody spoke to him, just offered small fleeting glances before walking off and resuming their daily business. Maybe they felt sorry for him. Maybe they didn't really care. He preferred to imagine everyone else feeling pity, since that was the closest thing to mourning he could imagine. It wasn't like he had come into acceptance with the possibility he might die. He actually felt the exact opposite.

Though he tried his best to look like he'd given up, he was still very edgy. There had been several occasions where he had most affirmatively spotted Lord Megatron out of the corner of his gaze. In the event of those situations, he had formulated a very effective strategy. Dive for cover and head in the exact opposite direction of the warlord. Though he always tried to look like he had somewhere to be, Starscream was actually just trying his best to avoid Lord Megatron, which had taken him around the entire ship about 11 times now.

He was just passing the launch bay for what felt like the 45th time when he realized he was starved. Running from shadows really does a number on you, he noted. The thought of energon made his gut ache.

The seeker groaned and elbowed past a hoarde of vehicons, angling his wings and keeping vigilance. There weren't very many energon dispensers located around the ship, to his great despair, so he'd just have to brave the corridors of the Nemesis.

Unfortunately, he didn't get far.

Starscream was intercepted painfully close to his original destination. He hadn't caught sight of the silver mech soon enough, giving him long enough to single him out. How ironic.

"Starscream," the warlord commanded, his deep, poisonous tone making him shudder. He went very still, color draining from his faceplate. "A word."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, resentfully trudging up to the warlord. He observed the seeker very closely for a moment before turning his helm, gesturing for the seeker to follow his lead.

Megatron was a deity all on his own, a mech that commanded unending respect. Starscream felt quite denounced beside the warlord. He'd match his footsteps to his master's, sidling up to him and trying to fit in to the curve of his hip. He never left his shadow, but kept at a fairly respectable distance. Starscream liked to pay attention to these little things, the defining qualities of any mech.

"Where are we going?" Starscream bravely wondered, looking up at the warlord with a slightly lowered helm.

Megatron took a while to respond. "My quarters," he said, though it was slightly muttered.

Okay, that was... different. Usually a confrontation took place in the throne room, or somewhere adjacent. But it was getting late, he noted nervously.

"Oh." He replied lamely.

He'd never actually seen Lord Megatron's living quarters before, and that alone was nerve wracking. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, so he couldn't say he was disappointed by what he saw.

It was big. And dark. The lighting was similar to the rest of the ship, only dimmer. It was only a slight mess, floor littered with scattered datapads and other miscellaneous objects. Other then that, it was nice. His berth was very nicely sized. There were two doors in the corner of the room, and a mirror on the wall. Simple, but effective.

Why would the warlord want to meet him here...?

The warlord shut the door leading out, doing so in a casual, yet ever-so-slightly sluggish demeanor. He inhaled very slightly. Starscream decided to hover more towards the center of the room, gaze raised frightfully.

"...Sir?"

"M-my liege!" The seeker cried in surprise as Megatron laid his small frame on the berth, smirking maliciously. His engines emitted a pleasurable rumble as he cupped a servo around the back of his helm, kissing him. The seeker let out a light, airy moan as the warlord trailed down the length of his chassis, thumbing his aft. Starscream's spark was racing, engines working overtime.

The seeker let out a yelp when Megatron shifted his weight to his side, tugging the seeker close and nibbling on his neck cabling. The smaller mech groped for a handhold, afraid to go slack. The warlord gave a sultry chuckle and kissed the seeker's lower jaw, down to his shoulder-pad.

"Blood of Unicron," Starscream mumbled, feeling slightly ill. The warlord pinned him, trapping him between the wall and the berth. The smaller mech curled up a little, wings staying close to his side. Megatron was being... surprisingly gentle with him. It was ever-so-slightly discerning, but at least he was in less danger of being impaled or crushed. That would've been a very humiliating way to die.

Megatron cupped a servo around his cheek, gently stroking his spinal cabling. Starscream's engines let out a low purr as he grasped the mech underneath the helm, trying to shake off the security he felt being curled up beside the warlord.

Megatron knew it was wrong. That didn't stop him from feeling really, really good about it.

The warlord held the small, trembling form closer to him, lightly running a claw down the indents in his wing. The seeker was terrified. He probably shouldn't expect anything else when he came on so aggressively and threatening him. But he was cooperating.

"Disobey me again," he mumbled to the seeker, "and I will kill you."

Starscream just whimpered.

Well, that escalated quickly! ^U^

Don't hate me ~(•-•)~


	5. Prologue II

"I come from a wealthy family."

The seeker ended the conversation on that note, weaving his claws together.

Megatronus raised an optic ridge. He had met with Starscream several times before, and each time he asked him about his heritage. He had received the same response every time. He was very curious about whatever he could possibly have to hide.

"I'm just down on my luck," he followed up. Unsatisfying response.

"I see," he replied, choosing not to pry. He would get an answer. He took a small sip of his high grade.

They had settled on certain days and places to meet, usually after arena matches. As it seemed, Kaon had a variety of underground clubs Megatronus had never known about. It was... an interesting branch of society.

The gladiator looked back at Starscream, whom he managed to catch glancing at the center of the club, which was the happy home to an actual dance floor. Weird. The seeker quickly looked away.

"Do you...?" The gladiator wondered, out of curiousity.

Starscream shook his head. Megatronus was slightly disappointed, but only slightly, for that was something he would have been glad to see. A little.

Megatronus flagged down the bartender, ordering several more cubes of high grade. He offered one to Starscream. He didn't know that the seeker rarely had any of the heavy stuff.

"This is good," the mech noted after taking a few small sips. He downed the whole thing in seven seconds flat, reaching for another. Megatronus was more than happy to offer a second.

After finishing that one, the seeker blinked. "Gimme another," he said, tone a little slurred.

"I don't know - what's your limit?" Megatronus asked cautiously.

Starscream shrugged. He took a third, sipping it. Megatronus had his own, keeping watch on the seeker.

He set the cube down, trying to focus on his servos. He was disoriented, no doubt. Megatronus wasn't sure if he should regret his decision to give the seeker the substance. He didn't want to poison the poor mech.

"That was heavy," the seeker noted, giggling a little. He never giggled. "It's making me feel dizzy."

Megatronus looked at him oddly, setting down his own cube.

"I think I should hit the floor," he said thoughtfully.

"I thought you didn't dance," Megatrous said, smirking.

"I don't," he replied, standing (stumbling a little on the chair) and cheerfully bounding over.

This is going to be fun, the gladiator noted with a smug chuckle.

He leaned out of his seat and watched the seeker stride up, grinning drunkenly. He was definitely over his limit. Starscream waved to mechs he'd never met like they were friends, and he was greeted with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Megatronus laughed lightly and knelt forward, propping his helm up in his servos.

The gladiator wasn't sure what he was expecting of the seeker, but he was definitely surprised. His friend was good. He was quick on his peds, and he had some fairly good moves. Not to mention, he was quite a looker...

The mech looked up, hearing a bout of laughter. The mechs gathered around the floor were talking excitedly amongst themselves, gesturing out to the floor. It took a moment to realize they were talking about the seeker. One mech whistled, talking in a slurred tone to his buddies. Megatronus felt the sudden urge to stalk up and hit one of them. He wasn't sure why he was bothered by those mechs, but he wanted it to stop.

The gladiator got up, striding down over himself. He was greeted by several bubbly mechs with big bright grins. Some called him by name, probably knew him from the arena. He rolled his optics, flashing the group of mechs he had been glowering at earlier an evil glare. They just gave him clueless looks. Slaggers.

Megatronus himself wasn't huge on dancing. It wasn't exactly something gladiators were well known for, anyway. He wasn't extremely terrible, he supposed, but he wasn't very good. But he still strode out on the floor, shoving past several other mechs who were well past their limits, and stalking up to Starscream, who had become a spectacle on the floor and had his own personal space bubble now.

When he spotted him, the seeker looked up and grinned. "Hey, Megatronus," he said, optics still bright with that unfocused shine. He stretched a little, a warm-up. "What are you doing down here?"

The gladiator caught himself staring and cleared his respiratory canal. "I wanted to dance," he replied, pausing for a moment and then extending a servo. "...May I?"

Starscream looked at him for a moment, then cracked a smile. "Why not?" He laughed.


	6. Chapter 4

Starscream's breath came out in quick bursts, making his chest burn. The seeker stared at himself in the mirror, optics wide with a mixture of crippling fear and burning shame. Damn.

At that point, it didn't really matter - he was alone, back in his own quarters, away from prying gazes and swift judgement. He didn't care that he burst out crying like a sparkling. He was afraid, fraggit. So he sobbed hysterically over his bedside table. He was fragile.

He didn't want to think about fragility. That just made him feel worse, the gaping pit in his gut growing larger and threatening to envelop him entirely. A sad, miserable way for his sad, miserable life to end. Okay, maybe he was dramatizing his situation a tad much. But that didn't make him feel any better.

After he was all out of tears and breath, the seeker shakily wiped the fluid away from his optics, hiccuping. That's it. Let it all out. His lower lip trembled along with the rest of his small frame.

As it turned out, Starscream was all about worst-case scenarios. Fitting. He wondered if it was possible to be impaled by one of Megatron's spiky deco-bits. Not to mention his claws. And those slicing dentas...

He shuddered, creasing his optic ridges and taking a deep breath. His engines were speeding along at a million miles per minute, and he could feel himself heating up. Any hotter and he would've started giving off steam. It was good to let it all out, but there was such thing as too much of a good thing.

Let me make myself clear, the warlord had started with a rumble, holding the seeker close to him and lowering his helm. You will be my pet for as long as it appeases me. You will follow my orders to the point. If you disobey me, I will kill you. The sight of Megatron's voracious grin still remained fresh in his processor. He wanted to retch. Why did he always manage to work himself into these things? Was bad luck naturally attracted to him, or did he just have a habit of looking for it?

Of all emotions he could've been feeling right then, the dominating factor had to be hunger. He was starved. And nobody thinks clearly on an empty stomach.

The seeker just finished his second cube, devouring it ravenously, when he was rather rudely interrupted by a fairly irritated looking Soundwave. The muted mech tapped him on the shoulder three times with his tentacle-probe to capture his attention. Starscream turned around slowly, scowling once he realized who it was and that they had interrupted his breakfast. "What do you want?" He spat, wings raising so the tips stood up above his helm. Aggravation and suspicion shot through his systems, rocking him from his peds to his digits.

Soundwave gestured to the other room, giving him a blank stare (literally). Starscream scowled and peered over the mech's shoulder pad. A group of vehicons were gathered stubbornly in the center of the walkway, having a heated discussion amongst themselves. At first, the seeker was confused. Then Soundwave jabbed him sharply in the exposed area below his chest plate and pointed his probe back at the flock in a swift directory motion. He supposed this meant he was supposed to do something about this uprising. The seeker groaned in impatient aggravation and moved past the muted mech, stalking over to the group.

"Okay, what's the problem here?" Starscream snarled, breaking up most of the discussion. Most of the vehicons just stared at him. One pointed a claw in his direction.

"Hey, commander," one of the droids hissed in a particularly cocky attitude. The owner of the voice walked right up to him. "Thanks a lot for nearly getting me scrapped!"

Starscream stared at the droid in disbelief, brooding over his sharp attitude. "Excuse me? What?" He shot back.

"You heard me! Lord Megatron sentenced me to a lifetime of maintenance duty in the lower wing - after you bumped into me and spilled paint all over him!" The vehicon snarled, red visor burning with rage.

Starscream glared furiously at the defiant droid. "Watch your tone, you ungrateful scrap!" He ordered. "Return to your post, before -"

"Before what, Lord Megatron beats my aft for talking back to his little seeker?!" The vehicon spat, mechanical voice lined with a poisonous edge. He took a threatening step forward and shoved the seeker. Starscream stumbled back, skidding a little on his heeled peds. A mixture of combined shock and approval rippled through the vehicon spectators.

Starscream looked back up, chest heaving. "Why, you little -"

Before he could finish, the vehicon pivoted forward and socked him squarely on the left optic. He yelped in surprise and recoiled fearfully, stinging pain wracking his entire faceplate. He covered up the wounded area with his servos, lower lip trembling. He heard a gasp, and another cheer. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his optics, and the seeker was utterly humiliated to find himself on the verge of sobbing. Again. He cracked open his undamaged optic, staring hatefully at the despicable droid.

"Not so tough now, are you?" The droid laughed spitefully, robotic voice reverberating around the bowl-shaped walls of the walkway.

"How dare you!" Starscream snapped, though his voice cracked and he just sounded pathetic. This earned him a few laughs.

"If I had known teaching you a lesson was this easy," the mech rumbled, stalking over and staring down at him, "then I would have done this a long time ago." His visor glowed with piercing rage and he curled his servos into fists. The seeker flinched away, dread pooling in his stomach.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

Starscream felt his spark do a jittery flip in its chamber. He turned his gaze, fear increasing a tenfold.

Lord Megatron stood at the entrance to the walkeway, looking down at the vehicons with a glare so fierce it made the rebel droid look like a frightened sparkling. His features were contorted into a mixture of fury and alarm.

The vehicon terrorist raised his visor, voicebox faltering. "Lord Megatron! He -"

The warlord grabbed the droid by the helm, lifting him into the air and hauling him at full force against the wall. The mech collided with a sickening THWACK!, falling to the ground and curling up into a crippled ball. Starscream cringed. The other droids took the hint very seriously and swiftly scattered before Lord Megatron decided to relay any further punishments.

After he took a second to catch his breath, the warlord turned back to Starscream. The seeker instinctively cowered, raising his servos above his helm in a defensive stature.

Megatron scoffed at the gesture and knelt down, hauling the seeker up by the wing. He was very careful, grasping him firmly by the flat segment and placing him on his peds. Starscream gave a little mini-yelp, balancing out and hugging himself fearfully. He didn't want to look up at the warlord, because all he could think about was the mech's menacing grin, and his servos trailing down his chassis...

Primus.

"That's some pretty nasty swelling," the warlord mumbled, grasping the seeker's lower jaw and tilting his helm up. Forced to meet the warlord's gaze, he looked up, breath catching in his respiratory canal. His gaze was hard, but laced with concern... or some lowlife equivalent. "You should go see Knockout, for..." he trailed off, staring long and hard into the seeker's optics. Starscream grew slightly frightened, afraid even to blink.

After a moment of this apparent trance, Megatron snapped back into reality, releasing the seeker and pushing past him, walking down the hall. Once he was gone, Starscream finally found he could breath again and took a huge gulp of air. The burning pain over his left optic was still intense, but nowhere near the heat of the rest of his faceplate, leaving him bright blue with blush.

This was going to be a long day.


	7. Prologue III

"Is this guy for real?" A voice huffed. Starscream was prodded hard on his side. He whirled around, raising his wings and glaring at the owner. It was a burly mech, a seeker, who was scowling down at him. Light bounced off his creamy white armor, giving him a saintly appearances l. He wore a cruel smile, looking at the seeker like he was a disease.

"Oh, knock it off, Jetfire," a femme scolded.

"Yeah. Leave her alone. I mean, him." Another mech chimed in, though his tone was mocking.

"Shut up, Thundercracker," she hissed again. The femme was painted bright purple all over, with neon blue patches decorating her armor. She turned and shoved the mech called Thundercracker, who folded his arms stubbornly.

"But look at him! He's tiny!" Jetfire complained, throwing his servos up. Starscream bristled, wishing he could wipe the amused smirk from the seeker's faceplate. "There's no way they're gonna accept him into the Strike Team!"

"Stop giving him such a hard time, he didn't do anything to you!" The femme snapped again. She stalked over, shouldering Jetfire and semi-sheltering Starscream.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Jetfire grumbled, trotting over to Thundercracker. Starscream glared at the two mechs, then looked back at the femme. She was tall and heavily armored, bordering heavyset and lean. Her expression was stern but her optics were kind. She offered Starscream a small smile.

"Sorry about that. Don't mind those two - they're really nice, if you get to know them." She took Starscream's servo and gave it a firm shake. "My name's Firefly. It's good to see we have another applicant for the Strike Force."

Starscream offered a meek laugh in return. When he had first heard about Strike Force, he'd thought it was a joke. Cybertron had been peaceful for eons - why would anyone need an aerial attack unit? But the more he learned about it, the more intrigued he became. Apparently, the Strike Force was an elite group of flight-based soldiers who were to serve as Cybertron's official defense system, in the case of attack. The recruiting had caused an enormous riot, because everyone wanted to be a part. The land-based bots pretended they weren't bothered, but you could tell that many of them were jealous. Starscream became infatuated with the Strike Force. But now that he was here, he was overcome with anxiety. All the other mechs here looked like they were born for war. What if he was denied? After he'd worked so hard just to book a reservation to this place...

"Aww, you're nervous, aren't you?" Firefly interrupted his thoughts. She smiled and slapped him on the back, causing him to stumble. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll be just fine. What's your name, by the way?"

Easy for you to say, he thought bitterly, looking at the battle-ready femme. "Starscream," he replied quietly.

"Starscream? Cool! I'll look for you on the rosters!" She said cheerily, turning and bounding off to rejoin Thundercracker and Jetfire. Starscream sighed, fear gnawing at him. How in the Pits was he going to pull this off now?

The trials were over, thank Primus. Starscream was sore all over, and he felt like every single joint in his body had been popped out of place. He wrung his wings shamefully, knowing that he couldn't have qualified with his pitiful display. At least he hadn't gotten off as bad as some of the other applicants - he had caught a glimpse of a femme with her arm twisted all the way back in her socket, and another mech with a dislodged wing. Yet there were other contestants who had come out grinning, bragging about how well they had done on their qualifiers. Each word he heard make his spark sink further down into his chest.

The applicants had been waiting for what seemed like ages for the judges to post the rosters. Some mechs had already left, out of depressed shame. Every so often excitement would buzz through the crowd when a mech claimed he had spotted one of the judges, but so far all had been false alarms. Starscream felt utterly alone, even though he was surrounded by a sea of writhing bodies.

Eventually, he spotted a few familiar faces - Firefly, Thundercracker and Jetfire. He slowly weaved his way over to him, keeping his helm down so they wouldn't recognize him at first. However, Firefly caught a glimpse of him about a mile away and cracked a huge grin, waving enthusiastically. "Hey, Starscream!" She called, grabbing the attention of her companions and a few other seekers. "Over here!"

He cringed and stalked over, stiffening his wings and holding his chin up. Jetfire and Thundercracker weren't scoffing at him anymore, at least. Thundercracker actually smiled at him and offered a servo to shake. Starscream took it gladly. Jetfire still appeared a little hostile, but he wasn't reluctant to greet him. They must have forgotten their earlier clash, to the seeker's relief.

"I'm so excited!" Firefly squealed. "I can't wait to see the rosters!"

"Same here," Jetfire rumbled. "I bet I got top rank."

"Thundercracker, Lord of the Skies!" The dark purple/blue mech piped up, throwing his servos up in a dramatic flourish and grinning.

"I'm not," Starscream mumbled, averting his gaze. "I did terrible at the qualifiers. They're gonna disqualify me."

"Aw, come on!" Firefly said, nudging him.

"I'm sure you did great," Thundercracker assured him, offering a lopsided smile.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Jetfire said, patting him on the top of the helm.

He supposed that was the closest he would ever get to a compliment from the surly seeker.

It felt like ages, but after a long wait, the rosters were finally posted. Firefly grabbed Thundercracker's servo and hauled him to his peds, racing through the crowd. Jetfire followed them. Starscream moved to follow them but was bowled over by a tidal wave of seekers, who swept him off his peds and carried him along like a buoy in the sea.

When he could finally walk again, Starscream did his best to worm through the crowd, squeezing in to all sorts of awkward positions just to get past. An advantage of being small. The closer he got to the rosters, the louder those exclamations of anguish became, as well as the bursts of ecstatic celebrations. When he finally cleared a path to the rosters, he was trembling all over and struggling to catch his breath. He tried to find his newfound allies, but there was no hope.

"STARSCREAM!"

He was beyond relieved to hear Firefly's confident cheer as she yanked him away, dragging him by the collar of his armor. He twisted and squirmed until she propped him back up onto his peds, grinning immensely. "YOU MADE THE TEAM!"

"What?!" He replied, astounded.

She beamed and dragged him again, to where Jetfire and Thundercracker were still gawking at the rosters. She shoved him forward, making way between the two mechs to allow passage.

The roster was enormous, so organized it looked like a mess. It took a moment of frantic searching before Starscream spotted his name. If he hadn't been alarmed to hear he had been accepted, he was completely blown away when he read the label on the board.

STARSCREAM: QUADRANT COMMANDER

Commander?!

No, it couldn't be. Maybe it was a mistake, or a misprint...

"You and Jetfire got high positions!" Firefly squealed.

"Raaadical!" Thundercracker marvelled, beaming.

Jetfire looked down at Starscream in an are-you-serious? sort of way. Starscream wasn't even annoyed. He was bewildered, assured this was some sort of hoax.

"I can't believe we all qualified!" Thundercracker cheered, pumping his servos. "This is gonna be soooooo sweet!"

"I can't believe I qualified for Strike Force," Starscream said ecstatically, grinning like an idiot. Megatronus tried his best to keep from scowling as he listened to the seeker rant. "I thought I was a goner, and then - not only am I accepted, I get Quadrant Commander!"

"I'm glad for you," the gladiator rumbled, watching the seeker with a cool glare. He didn't notice, of course - he was too pumped about the qualifications to actually look at the mech.

"All my life, I've been dreaming of something bigger," he began, his words leaking passion. "I didn't know what my purpose was, but now... I think the Strike Force might be -"

"Alright, I get it! I'm happy for you, okay?!" Megatronus interrupted, whipping his helm around and glaring at the wall.

Starscream fell silent. "Are you alright?"

"Of course! As long as you're living your dream," the gladiator spat.

"I don't understand," Starscream said quietly, looking at the warlord from across the table. "Was it something I -"

"I'M HAPPY FOR YOU," he hissed, gritting his dentas. "DAMN FRAGGING HAPPY."

"What is wrong with you?!" The seeker prodded him, staring at him incredulously. "I - I thought you would be glad..."

"What, is my word not good enough for you?! Well, that's swell. Go cry about it with your little Strike Force friends," he hissed, leaning forward and glaring at the seeker. "See if I care."

"Seriously?" Starscream interjected, tone harsh. "What, am I not allowed to have a moment of glory? You want me to hang back in the shadows while you sit in the spotlight? What is wrong with you?!" He stood up, wings raised.

Megatronus dug his claws into the table. "That's not -"

"Bastard!" The seeker spat, spinning around and stalking off. The gladiator's optic twitched, fury bubbling up and threatening to overflow. He let out an infuriated roar and stood, grabbing the seat from under him and heaving it against the wall. It hit the surface with a loud CLUNK, breaking in two and falling pathetically to the floor. It left a deep, nasty dent in the wall. Megatronus ignored the surprised looks he earned and left stiffly, seething.

Maybe he had overreacted. The seeker had a right to do whatever he liked... right? But he still brooded over it, seething and cursing erratically.

He would get back at them - both Starscream, and his Strike Force.


	8. Chapter 5

"Wow, that droid really did a number on you," the medic noted, smirking cruelly. "I applaud him for his efforts."

"Shut up," Starscream growled, wringing his wings. His entire faceplate still burned, optic swollen shut.

"I've gotta hand it to him, he's got some real guts. If he survived, I'd love to get his autograph -"

"Just fix my fragging optic," he interrupted, glaring at him. "Glitch," he mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, that's why you're here," Knockout wondered. "I'm kidding," he added after the seeker shot him a look like daggers.

After several moments of sifting through, the medic found what he was looking for. He strode back over and injected a syringe in the area around his swollen optic, which made it numb and tingly within a few moments. He sorted out the other necessary tools and got to work, first by smoothing the metal around the wound.

"So, what, is he like your bodyguard now?" He spoke up out-of-the-blue.

"What?"

"Megatron," he noted. "Is this your so-called punishment? He gets to guard you? Wow, I can really feel your misery." He rolled his optics.

"No, you idiot," he growled, glaring at him. I wish.

"Well, then, what's up with that?" He wondered. "He doesn't seem mad at you. Primus, he's even being nicer to you. Not fair."

"Just fix the damn wound," he growled.

"Alright, alright, whatever," he huffed, raising his servos.

Starscream grumbled and sat still while Knockout fixed him up, cleaning the energon from his inner receptor with delicate needlework. Well, delicate was a bit of an overstatement. It was a miracle the idiot didn't stab him or leave him blind.

Once the medic was finished, he stepped back from the seeker, returning the signal to his optic and placing his tools down. "Alright, you're up and running!" He said proudly. "Blink," he ordered.

Starscream swiftly opened and closed his optics, which were still burning. The fluid rushed back, and he teared up, moisture sloshing around his vision. He blinked it away and tried to focus. His vision was still very blurry on the one side. Knockout informed him it might take a while before his vision was fully restored, and if it got any worse to contact him immediately. Standard procedure. Starscream had to admit, he was glad to leave again, only because he didn't want to be prodded again by Knockout about Megatron's punishment. He wasn't ready for that humiliation.

After exiting the medbay, he headed towards the mainframe, just out of curiousity. He was greeted by a commotion, topped with a stressed Soundwave anxiously trying to monitor all the screens in the room in one sitting. He tried his best to stay connected to as many screens as he could get his claws on, using his tentacle probes for extra leverage.

"What's going on here?" The seeker ordered, glaring at the faceless mech.

"Autobot attack," another mech responded. Starscream whirled around, met by the dreaded face of Shockwave. The cyclopsed mech stared blankly at him, glare piercing him like a blade.

"Where, on one of our energon mines?" Starscream questioned, bristling. They couldn't afford to lose another outlet!

Shockwave nodded, looking over to Soundwave. "The one in Georgia," he added. "The number of offlined worker droids is at 36."

Scrap. That was a lot.

"Well, what should we do?" Starscream grumbled, lowering his wings.

"We could dispatch a secondary unit," Shockwave suggested. "But you can probably figure the details out yourself. You are in charge of military personal."

Starscream resisted the urge to sock him in his big smug optic.

"I'll send out a squadron of seekers to neutralize the threat," he said, trying his best to sound polite. He activated his fuzzy commlink and sent out the order, where it was then carried out by a select formation of his special custom droids. Meanwhile, Soundwave hurriedly monitored the systems, doing everything he could to keep the mine online. Shockwave observed, occasionally offering hints or comforting words to the muted mech. If Starscream didn't hate them both, he would have been touched to see them working together well.

Starscream got bored quickly and didn't stick around to see how this ended, leaving the two mechs to their own devices. Now that he was back on routine, the events of the past day didn't seem as stressful, his problems less severe. He ended up sipping an energon cube by the warship's overlook window, watching as raindrops spattered against the glass in a rioting splash. It was calming.

A clash of thunder made him jump, dentas chattering out of sheer alarm. He shook off the feeling and resumed his absent staring.

He was still recovering from the shock when he was jarred again, this time even more thoroughly. The seeker was boredly staring out the window when he felt a servo clasp his shoulder, suddenly and out of nowhere. He spun around, optics wide. Megatron (curse his unending rotten luck) stood over him, red optics heavy. He slid into the seat beside the seeker, hunching his shoulders and staring out the window.

Starscream stared. He couldn't help it. Megatron was always... well... dramatic. Charismatic. Sturdy. Something that wasn't this. Defeated and deflated.

"What happened?" He murmured, out of faint curiousity. He wasn't sure if he was ready to talk to the warlord again, but the words fell out of his mouth before he could think.

"We lost another mine," Megatron growled. "Two. Damned Autobot scum."

Starscream winced, guilty both for leaving the mainframe during the invasion and for the energon cube he had so carelessly devoured.

"Our artillery is getting low, so I'm not sure when we can take it back, either," Megatron continued. "With all of our energy going into Shockwave's Predacon project, we haven't spent nearly enough time replenishing our vehicon forces."

Starscream did a mental fist pump. In your face, Shockwave! You and your stupid Predacons!

Starscream kept silent, staring awkwardly out the window as it continued to pour. Lightning flared outside. It was fairly turbulent, yet pacifying.

They retained this awkward silence for a moment before Megatron shifted, looking down at the seeker with a raised helm. He leant down and cupped a servo over the seeker's lower jaw, lightly brushing the area beneath his blurry optic. Starscream stared fearfully at the warlord, swallowing and blushing bright blue. Not here, he wanted to cry, feeling weak and pathetic. No surprise.

Megatron smirked, the subtle flicker of malicious light returning to his gaze. "What's wrong, Starscream?" He rumbled, engines purring. He leaned forward a little, and the seeker subtly edged back, hitting his helm on the opposite wall. Not good. He bit his glossa and flattened his back against the wall, wings carefully splayed. Megatron let out a sultry chuckle, running a foreclaw down the seeker's jawline and down to the collar of his armor.

Scrap.


	9. Chapter 6

Starscream inhaled sharply, chestplate rising and falling in an abrupt motion. Megatron smirked, gaze flitting down the seeker's frame. He lowered his helm, firmly pressing his palms against the ground and flashing him a sly smile. Starscream's entire frame trembled, though it was slight. The warlord found it amusing, in a weird way.

The seeker shifted, only just, leveling his wings and lowering his helm. Megatron grabbed the seeker's wrist and tilted his chin up, staring down at him with a firm glare. Starscream winced and met his gaze the best he could, too frightened to shy away. The warlord dipped his helm and kissed him, wrapping an arm around the seeker's frame and tugging the frightened form so he was nestled against the curve of his flank. Starscream went bright blue and rigid, which Megatron figured would be his common response.

The warlord closed a servo around the base of his helm and kissed him harder, earning a small squeak from the terrified seeker. He pulled the mech very close, close enough to feel the beat of his racing spark, and slid

a palm down his chassis, groping at his waist. He ran a claw up his spinal cabling, then placing it under the seeker's jaw and turning it ever-so-slightly sideways. Starscream let out an airy moan and grabbed hold of the Megatron's shoulders as the warlord moved to biting, nibbling hard at the exposed neck cabling just below his lower jaw. The smaller mech was starting to go slack, gripping the warlord above his shoulder pads to stay erect. A dirty chuckle rose from the mech's chest and he grabbed Starscream's aft, kissing him along the jaw and lower lip. He could feel the seeker growing steadily warmer, both out of embarrassment and overload. Megatron was fairly riled up himself.

Megatron pulled back very slowly, chest heaving as he grinned down at his first lieutenant. The seeker clung to him for dear life, barely able to catch his breath.

"M - milord..." He managed to mumble, blinking. Megatron placed his foreclaw gingerly against the seeker's mouth, silencing him.

"Shut up, Starscream," he said softly, and for the slightest moment his gaze faltered, revealing a flicker of something irregular and unfamiliar. It was unplaceable and gone in a flash, but it still scared him. He let out a small whimper, which turned to a whine. Megatron rested the palm of his servo on the side of the seeker's faceplate, slowly tugging him closer. The seeker huddled beside him, shivering - despite the fact he hew felt no cold.

Megatron was glad the seeker's gaze was averted. He didn't want his first lieutenant to see the flash of guilt in his optics, because that would have been embarrassing, wouldn't it? Starscream was terrified of him. That's what he wanted... right?

He was so busy thinking about this he didn't notice that Starscream had went relatively limp in his arms, and his breathing had become slow and soft. He must've fallen into recharge. Megatron laid back and pulled the sleeping form close to his side, careful not to disturb his slumber. He cradled the seeker, angling his gaze down and kissing the seeker on the top of the helm.

"Uhh... Lord Megatron..."

The warlord snapped his gaze around, stiffening and letting out a guttural growl. A vehicon messenger was standing in the hall, peeking through the doorway to the observation dock. His visor was wide with shock. By the looks of it he had been there for some time.

"Errr, th - I - important news, sir, the -"

Megatron snarled and raised his plasma cannon, shifting it into gear and pointing it at the vehicon. The messenger droid, fortunate enough for him, ducked out of range just as Megatron fired, so the warlord instead left a gaping hole in the doorway. "OKAY! I'll leave!" He cried, scurrying off in fear of his life.

The sound and force jarred Starscream, who quickly snapped awake. He blushed severely, realizing with an instant he was indeed trapped in the very tight embrace of Lord Megatron, struggling to fully process what had just happened. "M-m-m-master..." He stammered, noticing his smoking cannon.

Megatron looked down at the seeker and flashed him a sly smile. "Something wrong, Starscream?" He purred, running a servo up his frame. The seeker fell immediately silent.

With a reluctant sigh, Megatron stood, savoring his first lieutenant's touch before he released him. "Something's up," he explained plainly. "I am very sorry to say that we must discontinue for the time being." He said this in a formal tone that made the seeker turn bright blue. Megatron flashed the seeker one last smirk and walked off, leaving the small seeker huddled against the wall in a combination of fear and shock.

Ho boy.

Megatron didn't spot the messenger droid sent to retrieve him, which was lucky... for him. But he had a feeling the little slagger would turn up sooner or later.

He strode into the main room, where Shockwave was conversing with a droid in a very hushed tone. The warlord stalked over, raising an optic ridge. "My presence was requested," he interrupted them. Shockwave quickly looked up at the mech, while the vehicon quickly walked away.

"Lord Megatron," the scientific engineer greeted him in a stark drawl. "Important news, my lord. After the massacre at the mine, we sent out a recovery troop and found something most intriguing." He paused dramatically. "It turns out there was... a mech. At the mine."

"An Autobot?" Megatron wondered, raising an optic ridge.

Shockwave shook his helm.

"Well, then, what is he?" The warlord growled, glaring at him.

"Well, we were hoping you might be able to find out," Shockwave said ominously.

...

Cloudsplitter drummed his claws very anxiously on the side of his cot, staring at the dungeon wall. The light blue mech's gaze constantly wandered, and his entire body trembled with a mixture of both terror and excitement. Energon leaked out of a gash in his flank, and another on the side of his helm. His deco bits, once sharp and stylish, were dented and rubbed down to splits, covered in burns and dust. The dank smell of death in the catacombs was overwhelming. Reminded him of his home.

The sound of screeching metal filled his audio receptors, and it was only after several moments of shrill ringing did he look up. A mech stood at the door to his cell. Even with energon leaking from his one optic and puddling like tears in the indent of his faceplate, he could still make out the shape of one of the most infamous cons of all time - His Lordship, Megatron. He cracked an insane smile, his repeated drumming on the cot surface growing quicker and more desperate.

"So, you can speak," the warlord growled. Cloudsplitter smiled smugly.

"Of course, I can speak, but it is only a matter if I will, if I choose, to grant my words to a mech, who is not just any mech, but to whom I wish to speak."

Megatron stared blankly at this strange mech.

"What is your name?" He growled.

"You mean the title that was bestowed apon me, which I call not my name, for a name in itself is what defines you, but how may you define a mech at their creation? For a sparkling is an innocent mind, and has not experienced any wrongs, the wrongs we make personality. But perhaps the title does indeed define us, as we grow to live to the name, to follow its destiny."

"Enough of this foolish rambling," Megatron hissed.

"Rambling? It is only a matter of the eyes of the beholder, for if they seek true knowledge, they see not a ramble but an epic, and though you possess not the patience, I choose to relay my speech to you, not speak through another."

Megatron was getting tired of his riddle speech. "Give me your name," he snarled, gearing up his plasma cannon.

"Cloudspitter," he replied, his first straight-up answer.

"Why were you at the mine after the invasion?" He pressed.

Cloudsplitter grinned, revealing cracked dentas. "I was doing the best I could do, to serve His Greatness, the one and only Lord of Mind, who will bring apon me my purity, in a land wracked with the filth of the blind. With The Illusion Lord's guide, we may spread and take flight, and finally we will live in a world without war, for the Sighted and the Broad will rule over the arrogant Blind, and we will be cleansed with the spill of our enemies."

Megatron growled and grabbed the mech by the neck cabling, hoisting him up. "Enough games," he ordered. "Why where you at the mine?!"

Cloudsplitter cackled, gripping at the mech's claws. "You have doomed yourself," he choked. "You surround yourself with Blind, refuse to see. If you ever did See, you would know that you are doomed, and that the Illusion Lord is coming. His Greatness will teach you how to see by taking what you love. Then you will see. You will be able to watch as he tears out your spark and brings us victory."

Megatron growled and raised his cannon, pressing the smoking weapon to Cloudsplitter's chest. "TELL ME, YOU INSOLENT FOOL!" He snarled.

Cloudsplitter did not respond.

For a moment, Megatron thought he was toying with him again. Then he realized that the mech had gone limp, and his own servo was wet. He released the mech, allowing him to collapse to the floor. Dead. There was a large gash in the back of his neck cabling, energon gushing out. Megatron looked down at the mech and scowled. Must've planted a blade in the back of his neck, so all he needed to do was apply pressure. Sick. He saw it in the mech's optics. Very sick indeed.

Several droids rushed into the cell to retrieve the hostage's body. Megatron was frustrated, and fairly puzzled. What kind of a sick joke was this? Who was this "illusion lord?" On the outside, he didn't want to appear bothered. But inwardly, he brooded over the insane mech's final words, playing them over and over in his processor.

His Greatness will teach you how to see by taking what you love. Then you will see. You will be able to watch as he tears out your spark and brings us victory.


End file.
